Once Nicholas was settled into the living room playing Fortnite, Steven motioned for Dustin to follow him instead of going to their usual workplace in the dining room. Dustin walked down the hallway behind his friend, and Steven led the way into his bedroom and closed the door. Dustin had never been in Steven’s bedroom before, and as he entered, he understood why Steven hadn’t even clapped back over his brother’s lack of filter … because it was true. Everything in the lavish, professionally decorated bedroom was top of the line. Dustin felt like a character in a Hollywood movie. Steven turned on the massive flat-screen TV that hung on his wall and commanded Siri to play Lost Boyz’ “Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless.”

“Sorry for being so mysterious, bro,” Steven said. “But I really need to talk to you and only you.”

“Sure thing,” Dustin replied, suddenly growing anxious that somehow he had done something wrong.

“I wanted to talk the other day, but I couldn’t because of Lolly.” (Lolly had been there for their entire homework session two days earlier.)

Dustin was now more nervous, saying a silent prayer that Steven wouldn’t mention the very name that he had been avoiding like the plague.

“Stop with the face, dude, this isn’t about Kimmie,” Steven said.

And there it was: the DJ in Dustin’s chest made the vinyl of his heart skip a beat.

“I’ve been trying to forget the whole thing, really. But I can’t. It’s impossible. I have to tell someone, and you’re the only one I trust with this secret.…” Steven was pacing back and forth on the high-end shag carpet in front of the TV as the opening strains of “Renee” bumped out of the special-edition Bose surround-sound speakers.

“Steven, just say it. You’ll feel better.”

“You can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Cone of silence, but you gotta swear first. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit that cannot leave this room.”

“Are you high?” Dustin asked. “Because you’re acting like it. And I should know, I’ve got an addict in your living room right now.” Dustin couldn’t help but wonder if Steven’s dad had a lock on his liquor cabinet.

“No, I’m not high, I had one bump, but it was just to calm me down.”

Dustin thought about telling Steven that cocaine was a stimulant, but he didn’t want to get off topic or risk losing his friend’s confidence. “Steven,” said Dustin in his calmest and most trustworthy voice. “I swear I won’t tell a soul.”

Steven stopped pacing and stood in front of Dustin, who was sitting at Steven’s desk in a silver mesh Herman Miller chair. “My mom … The other day I … fuck! I can’t do it. I can’t even make myself say it.”

“Steven!” Dustin said sharply.